


Safe but Dangerous

by samstoleaburger



Series: Here we are again (like clockwork) [3]
Category: DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood Loss, Broken Families, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Inspired by Fanart, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samstoleaburger/pseuds/samstoleaburger
Summary: The last thing Vergil remembers is pain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Fanart](http://oldzio-olditore.tumblr.com/post/73195994526/vergil-singlehandedly-ruins-an-entire-happy-ending) that this little piece was inspired by.
> 
> Also, this takes place during Vergil's Downfall, but in the sense of he just passed out on the tombstone and not the whole madness you go through in the DLC.

The last thing Vergil remembers is pain. Pure, raw, excruciating pain that radiated throughout his senses and frayed his nerves. His veins felt like molten fire and yet, at the same time, felt extremely cold. As if the heat shot up then began to die off like a fire that someone stopped tending to.  
  
He also recalled that white, black and _red_ accompanied that pain. A dark and deadly red that promised misery and loss from the rage that was on full display. There was a face he was supposed to put to it, and yet Vergil couldn't remember who's.  
  
It was someone...dear to him. He cared deeply for them, truly and wholeheartedly. He knew he would do _anything_ for them, but there was a bitter aftertaste in his mouth at the thought. Vile and disgusting, like being betrayed in the worst kind of way. Lost and brokenhearted.  
  
Vergil knew he shouldn't try to remember the face attached to such distasteful things. Shouldn't taint a memory he holds dear and yet...  
  
And yet he wants to know _why_.  
  
Why are the colors, the blurred face and pain interconnected? Did the person he hold dear cause this?  
  
He can barely hear what sounds like a voice calling out to him. Almost doesn't realize it's distinctly masculine and that the cold is slowly ebbing away as _warmth_ envelopes his jaw. He decides to focus on the heat and, in turn, listens closer to the voice. It calls, " _Vergil_!" and, "Fuck. _Fuck!_ What do I do?"  
  
Familiar. Yes, the man is someone he knows. After all, not many knew his name, right?  
  
Vergil wishes he could open his eyes, but that seems like a whole other task in itself. Seems like it would take more energy than listening took and, honestly, he'd rather be aware of his surroundings this way than by sight. Even if there was a feeling of dread bubbling up in the pit of his stomach from simply thinking he was _safe_ with whoever was touching his face. Something told him he was far from safe, and that he should put distance between them _now_.  
  
Whoever this was was dangerous. He wasn't safe even if he felt or thought he was.  
  
"Shit. You're _freezing_." One of the heat sources moved away, repositioning itself on Vergil's forehead and brushed his bangs out of his face. He distinctly noted that the _hand_ combing through his hair as trembling. "Vergil, c'mon. Can you hear me?"  
  
If this man was supposedly dangerous then why did he sound so concerned? On the edge of hysterics?  
  
"Dante..." A second voice joined the mix. Feminine and also familiar. "I don't think he's -"  
  
"He's fine! He's - he's gonna be fine..."  
  
_Dante_.  
  
It took a moment to finally click and the blurred edges to the face he'd been trying to remember cleared. A fog lifting after what seemed like years and Vergil wished he could jerk away now more than ever. The white, black and red melded into the skin of Dante's face, cracks breaking out across his face like peeling, dilapidated wallpaper. Rage etched into his expression and soon overshadowed by sadistic joy once Vergil remembered _why_ the pain was present.  
  
Remembered _where_.  
  
Dante had pierced his heart with Rebellion. Pinned him to the ground and was intent on killing him if not for Kat begging for his life.  
  
Vergil barely had any state of mind to think, _Oh...that's right. I'm dying._ before he realized he was being moved. Lifted up and soon having his back pressed against something warm. A chest, perhaps?  
  
Regardless of the careful, slow movement, Vergil felt his chest throb from his wound being pulled. His heartbeat working double time to replenish the blood he'd lost, his skin trying to stitch itself back together and fresh blood oozing out of his injury. There was an intake of air from behind him - or was it above...?  
  
A hand was pressed against his chest in an attempt to slow the bleeding.  
  
"Kat, hand me my jacket."  
  
"Dante -"  
  
" _Give me my jacket_ , Kat." Dante's hands - they had to be Dante's, considering Kat had a cast on - held fast and the one placed over his heart gripped the fabric of his shirt in a steadfast hold. "We gotta get him warm."  
  
There was a moment of silence before Vergil heard a rustle of fabric, a mumbled, "Thanks," from Dante and soon he was covered. Dante situated him better against him, readjusted the jacket to make sure Vergil was wrapped up in it as best he could and his hands cupped Vergil's jaw to tip his head back. Just enough to be resting against Dante's chest, elevating his head and he got the impression that the sun's rays just might be on his skin.  
  
Warm. It was warm, comfortable...  
  
Calming.  
  
If he died like this, in Dante's arms and warm instead of cold and alone, Vergil thinks he might not mind. Even if Dante was the one to deal the killing blow and have such an enraged expression being the last he'd remember him by, it wasn't truly terrible.  
  
"Do you..."  
  
No. Now that he thought about it, dying with Dante's disappointed and angry face wasn't the last thing Vergil wanted to see before he passed. He didn't want Kat's horrified and devastated look to be the last for her either.  
  
Vergil felt something twitch. Perhaps his hand or face, but something moved and it resulted in a sharp intake of air for either Dante or Kat. That was good...right?  
  
"He - do you think he's...?"  
  
"Yes. I...I think so."  
  
It felt like clawing at the surface, only to be dragged back into the black the moment he took a second to relax. As if the darkness was intent on keeping Vergil under and never letting him see their faces again. Never to replace the hateful images, the pain attached to them.  
  
He heard someone groan and thought perhaps it was him when the hands on his face shifted. Not to mention Dante called to him again, voice soft and hesitant.  
  
Vergil felt and heard more clearly the more he struggled to become conscious. He could feel the pads of Dante's fingers press into his skin, the residential heat from the jacket and how Dante's chest rose and fell with each breath. He could hear Kat telling Dante that maybe, just maybe, Vergil's going to survive. That they should probably take him to a hospital.  
  
He furrowed his brows and tipped his head to the side, cheek cupped in the palm of Dante's hand. The fabric of his gloves itched and smelled strongly of blood.  
  
"Vergil...?"  
  
He forced his eyes to open and glanced from side to side. Shapes and colors were disoriented and blurred. Seemed as if they were far off, but once he caught sight of the face hovering over his own, everything instantly righted itself.  
  
Dante looked panicked with a hint of relief once Vergil opened his eyes completely.  
  
Vergil worked his jaw for a moment then croaked out, "Dante." He lowered his head and found Kat staring at him with just about as much as relief. "...Kat."  
  
Dante let out a huff of breath and pressed his forehead to the top of Vergil's head. "You melodramatic sonuvabitch." He removed his hands from Vergil's face and moved to wrap his arms around Vergil's neck. "You're lucky we found you when we did or you'd be dead."  
  
Kat looked down on her hands for a moment. "You should get some more rest. You're still healing and it must be taking a lot out of you."  
  
Vergil cast a glance toward the gravestone that his blood had been smeared on and closed his eyes without another word. It had taken a lot out of him, that much was certain. All the fighting, the pain, betrayal and struggling to become and remain conscious. Talking didn't sound like something he had enough energy to do at this point in time anyway.  
  
He isn't entirely sure what he's going to do after he wakes up again, _if_ he wakes up again, but for now...he'll cherish the time they have together before he decides he _has_ to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> I will not lie. I got super lazy near the end 'cause I mostly just wanted Vergil to open his eyes and look at them. Funnily enough, this was also inspired by the thought of Vergil being all, "I almost _died_ , you asshole!" to Dante in my head.


End file.
